Topping the Charts
by Hikari Kaitou
Summary: Something that America refuses to divulge has him sulking and England reluctantly pays a visit to see what he can do to help. Upon finding out what caused this little temper tantrum, England is slightly amused decides to give our hero a little ego boost.


**A/N:** Ah, hi. This thing is a bit old by now, but I thought I'd post it here anyway. This is my first attempt at writing Hetalia and I don't really feel like I have a solid grasp on characterization yet but I tried my best! The idea hit me when I saw a certain post on the main Hetalia LJ comm… I'll tell you more about the post at the end because divulging it at the beginning will spoil the story. Oh, and for any UK dwellers, I apologize in advance for my fail!Britain-speak! I tried, but I think I just ended up sounding dumb. Do try to enjoy it anyway!

(For all my previous subscribers, don't worry, I haven't given up on Their Love in Fifty Words. I'm just having a bit of trouble with the current chapter. It'll be up once I figure out what to do with it.)

* * *

When he first got word from Canada that America throwing some kind of hissy-fit, England didn't think much of it. After all, he had raised the boy and had seen him through all sorts of ups and downs in his younger days. It wasn't even that strange for America to sulk at his present age; he had done it at Japan's New Year's party when Germany and Italy had shown up completely smashed after having encountered a shrine celebration with an abundance of food and alcohol, he had done it when England had failed to give him Valentine's Day chocolate, and he had done it again when England had given him that rigged gag gift for his previous birthday.

No, America being a whiney git was nothing even remotely new, and if England knew the younger nation like he thought he did, America would be over whatever was bothering him within a few hours. At worst, it would take him a day. England had sighed and rolled his eyes, thanked Canada for the update and hung up feeling completely unconcerned about the whole thing. Honestly, Canada could be such a worrywart sometimes. Was it really necessary for him to call England every time that idiot caught a sniffle or scraped his knee? Chances were that America would call England himself to try and wring some sympathy from him anyway, even if Canada didn't bother to notify him.

It wasn't until about three days later that England even began to consider that whatever was bothering America might actually be something more than one of his usual trivial little hang-ups. America's failure to show up at the world meeting was what surprised (surprised, _**not**_ worried) him. Usually, that loud-mouthed idiot was one of the first ones to arrive, too thrilled about getting to lord his "heroism" over all of them to even entertain the idea of skipping. Naturally, once the meeting was over, England made a beeline for Canada.

"Where's that idiot America?" he asked, his thick eyebrows furrowed in what was most definitely _not_ concern. "Don't tell me he's still hung up about whatever was bothering him three days ago."

Canada sighed and nodded. "It's been years since I've seen him do something like this. He won't even tell me what's wrong, and I'm sure we can both appreciate how strange _that_ is."

England snorted. Truer words had never been spoken. But then the meaning of Canada's statement soaked in; the fact that America was declining to let everyone in the world know exactly what was bothering him was cause for worry. Not that _England_ was worried, but someone else might be. Like Canada. Canada was clearly becoming a wreck over all this.

"I'm tempted to just leave him to his own devices," Canada huffed, pouting as he folded his arms. "I've had it up to here with him ordering me around from the other side of his bedroom door, making me get him burgers and soda for every meal and deliver it to his room..."

"Burgers for _every_ meal?" England asked. His frown deepened. It was normal for America to eat burgers for at least one meal a day but having them for every meal for three days straight was excessive, even for America. Canada nodded.

"And sometimes he just starts moaning really loudly for no reason," Canada continued. "You'd think he was dying the way he's carrying on."

England's green eyes widened. "D-_dying_?"

"Eh? Oh, I'm sure he's not actually dying," Canada tried to reassure him, though England could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "We both know what a drama queen he is."

"Of course," England agreed, trying for what he hoped came out looking like an unimpressed sneer. "If something really big had happened, I'm sure it would be all over the news by now."

Canada nodded slowly. "Still, it's strange… Maybe you could try talking to him."

England shook his head, his brows furrowing again as he averted his eyes to the ground. "If he won't talk to you, I seriously doubt he'll say anything to me. The two of us hardly have a stellar relationship…"

The younger man was surprised to see a brief expression of pain flash across his companion's features. He reached out to touch England's shoulder comfortingly but England's head snapped up again sharply, his usual condescending expression back in place.

"Besides, like hell I wanna sit there and listen to him complain any more than I have to," he scoffed.

Canada looked slightly disappointed. "Well, I can understand that, but… I get the feeling he'd really appreciate a visit from you, even if he won't admit it outright."

England blushed slightly. Why on earth would Canada think America would want to see him when he was feeling low? Regardless of how England might feel about America (not that he had any special feelings for him, of course), America had made it pretty clear on many occasions that he didn't care about him. Surely he was the last person America would want to see when he was upset.

The European nation swallowed thickly. He wondered if America would be crying. Not that he cared. America had made him cry plenty of times; it served the bastard right. And the thought of comforting him like he used to do when America had been a little colony had no special effect on him either. Not in the slightest.

"Uh, England?" Canada piped up, interrupting the older nation's thoughts.

England shook himself. "I… I'll think about it, Canada," he said as he quickly turned and stalked away.

* * *

That evening, after an intense battle between his pride and his not-concern, the not-concern won and England showed up at America's house. He reluctantly knocked, unsurprised when America failed to answer. Equally unsurprising was the fact that the front door was unlocked. If America was having Canada making regular burger runs, it only made sense that the door would be open so that Canada could deliver the goods. England let himself in.

He flinched upon entering, a conditioned reflex. Usually when he visited, America was ready with a booming hello and a hearty greeting clap on the back. Today, however, England received neither. The house was startlingly still and silent. It was a little unnerving, to tell the truth, even if England had been told to expect it. The older man ventured deeper into the house, towards America's room. The door to his room was closed.

"America?" he called through the door as he knocked. "Are you still moping around in there?"

There was no answer. England knocked again. "Dammit, America! Quit being an overdramatic prat and answer me!"

Again, there was only silence. With a little snarl of impatience, England threw the door open. He could see, amongst tipped over soda cups and crumpled burger and fry wrappers from various fast food restaurants, America lying curled up on his bed with his back to the door. England wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of stale fast food as he entered the dimly lit room. The curtains were pulled and all the lights were off. No wonder America was depressed; anyone would be after spending so long in a smelly, dark room like this.

"Oi, America," England said again, folding his arms irritably. America moved so suddenly that he startled the European nation. Quick as a flash, America sat up, turned and whipped a pillow at his visitor's face.

"England, you jerk!" America whined. "You're the last person I wanna see right now! Go away, you dirty traitor!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" England growled. "I come all the way across the damn pond to see why you're being such a bloody wanker and this is how you treat me?"

America picked up another pillow. "Dammit England, if you don't get out of here right now, I'm gonna…"

"You'll what?" England snorted. "Throw another pillow at me? Excuse me if I don't exactly soil myself in terror."

America hurled the pillow at England with all his considerable strength. Admittedly, it did hurt a little, but not enough to get rid of him.

"Jeez! Why won't you just leave me alone?!" America shouted, looking around mutinously for something else he could throw at England, having run out of pillows. "Don't tell me you came to gloat!"

"Gloat?" England repeated, completely confused. "Look, you whiney pansy, I have no idea what you're going on about!"

"Don't pretend you don't know!" America snapped. He snatched a piece of paper off of his bedside table, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it at England's head.

England caught it easily and smoothed it out curiously. The heading across the top of the paper read "Gentosha official popularity ranking".

"What's this?" he asked, his thick eyebrows knitting together as his eyes traveled down the paper. The names of several countries had been written in English next to what England could only assume were the Japanese names. His name was at the top in first place, followed by Japan, Germany, Italy, Switzerland and way down in fifteenth place was America's name. "Is this from Japan?"

America had lain back down on his bed, his back to England again, and pretended not to have heard his question.

"This is what was bothering you so much?" England inquired in surprise. "A stupid popularity contest from Japan?"

"Shut up," America grumbled. "You're just saying that 'cause you're in first place."

England didn't reply because he was too busy being amused and disbelieving. This ridiculous thing was what had sent America into a three-day-long depression? England hadn't even been aware that America's attention span was capable of that kind of thing. He knew that the boy had the tendency to blow things out of proportion but this was stupid, even for him. England crossed the room to America's side and sat down on the bed beside him.

"You excitable git," England said fondly. "Something silly like this isn't worth getting worked up over."

"Of course it's a big deal!" America griped. "Did you see who's above me?! Switzerland! Austria! Poland! … Those guys aren't even countries!"

"What are you talking about?" England demanded. "Of course they're countries! Why the hell do you think they come to the world meetings if they're not countries?!"

"They're not on my map," America insisted, pointing to the map of America that was posted to his bedroom wall.

"You idiot! That's not a world map!" England snapped.

"It's _my_ world," America replied, a ghost of his usual grin on his face.

"Besides, I'm not on there, either," England groused. "I'm still a country, aren't I?"

"You are so on there. Look," America said, sitting up and indicating a spot near the upper right corner.

England got up from the bed for a closer look at the map. He was a bit surprised to see that his country had been cut out from a different map and pasted onto the corner of America's map. England had the sneaking suspicion that that was the fate the world map he had bought for America had met.

His eyes swung over to the opposite side of the map and saw a black scribble off the coast of California. He soon identified this as Japan, whose country had been drawn on sloppily but then scribbled out, presumably after the heartbreaking results of the popularity ranking. He focused back on the cut-out version of his own country. Somehow, he found the fact that America had gone to the trouble to cut out his country and affix it to his own map slightly endearing, albeit a bit childish and stupid. England returned to America's bed and sat down beside him again, trying to squash the warm feeling that was threatening to invade his chest.

"Why do you care about some Japanese popularity contest results, anyway?" England asked softly. "You've never cared what people think about you."

"But… I'm the hero," America mumbled, rubbing his eye beneath his glasses. "I thought… I thought everyone loved a hero. But fifteenth place… that sucks, England!"

England smiled to himself, reaching out absentmindedly to run his fingers through America's smooth blond hair. "You're a real prat, you know that?"

America finally rolled over to look at him properly. "Huh?"

England rolled his eyes. "A real hero wouldn't get all bothered over something meaningless like this. I thought the reason you decided to become a hero is because you're a nosey bastard who likes to get involved in everyone else's business and you can't stand to see weaker people getting pushed around. If you're in it because you want to be popular, then you don't deserve to call yourself a hero."

America frowned slightly as he considered England's words. England could practically see the hamster wheel turning in his head. "But…"

"Besides, even if those people didn't rank you that high, you're still…" England finished his sentence in a mumble too quiet for America to hear, his cheeks reddening.

"Huh? What'd you say?" America asked, peering up at him curiously.

"I… I said… you're still at the top of my chart." England was blushing fiercely enough to rival one of Spain's tomatoes.

America stared, his youthful, sparkling blue eyes wide with shock. "England… You're… I mean… Um, really?"

"Well…" England cleared his throat nervously and looked down at his knees. "Look, don't take this the wrong way! This doesn't mean I—"

That was as far as the older nation got before America sat up and silenced him with a meeting of mouths. The younger man's kiss was passionate but inexperienced, his lips warm and sure of themselves. They broke apart briefly, just long enough for America to push England down on the bed on his back and straddle him, and then their lips crashed together again. England tangled his fingers into America's hair, keeping him close even after they had to separate for breath. America's grin was back in full force, all vestiges of his previous depression scattered to the wind.

"So, England's list, huh?" America smirked, running his hands slowly up the hips of the man pinned beneath him. "Looks like that's not the only thing I top."

England flushed and shoved at the younger nation half-heartedly.

* * *

**A/N:** /cheesiness. How was that? Writing America all mopey like that was tough. While this was supposed to be humorous, I still found it a bit difficult since I can't recall canon-verse ever showing us what a sulky!America would be like. I didn't say what post inspired this in the beginning because I didn't want to spoil anything, but it was this: http:// www. gentosha-comics. net/hetalia/enquete/index_01. html (remove the spaces)

It's an official popularity ranking created by the publishing company that puts out the Hetalia tankoubon. I was disappointed to see minor characters ranking over the ever-awesome America. Doesn't that make you kind of sad?


End file.
